


you and the moon and neptune

by indecisively_yours



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Cursed Captain Hook | Killian Jones, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-21
Updated: 2018-01-21
Packaged: 2019-03-07 12:40:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13434924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indecisively_yours/pseuds/indecisively_yours
Summary: The arrival of a new person into Storybrooke throws the town for a loop. It’d throw Killian for a loop, too, if he didn’t have this stupid headache latched onto him. If only magic existed in this world.(Oh, the things he doesn’t know.)





	you and the moon and neptune

It starts, as many things do, with magic—the magic between two souls finding one another, trying against all odds to stay together, and the magic of a dark course threatening to pull them apart. **  
**

“Say your goodbyes,” was all that was whispered around the palace.

So the princess did, despite the hope that lived within her parents—and all those that sat around the table—that all would be won and goodbyes wouldn’t be necessary.

She snuck out of the castle amidst the dead of night and snuck aboard a ship docked in their town filled with pirates following a captain considered to be the biggest scourge of all the seas.

She sank further below with a prayer on her lips as the anxiety bubbled at her fingers. Her knuckles rapped on the door once, twice, before it flew open to reveal none other than the captain himself.

“Princess,” the captain breathed, word leaving his lips in surprise. He poked his head out of the quarters, briefly looked from side to side, before wrapping his arm around her and pulling her inside.

The sight of the hook and brace on the desk, the state of ease with which he surrounded himself now all but made her cry.

“The curse,” the princess whispered as she reached for his arms. “It’s coming. We haven’t much time. Mother and father, they believe we have a chance but there’s no stopping what’s to come. I’m sure of it.”

“We’ll find a way,” the captain ascertained. “Of that I’m sure. I’ll sail the ship as far as the horizon goes, far enough to avoid this magic.”

“There is no avoiding this!” the princess screamed. “This is dark magic, meant to tear us all apart, take our loved ones away from us. Meant to take me away from you—and I cannot bear the thought of losing you.”

“Nothing—no curse or spell or distance or other realm—shall ever take me away from you. Of that I can promise you,” the captain said.

It ends, as many things do, with the ringing of a bell, and the announcement of a curse drawn near.

///

Killian groans at the sound of his alarm clock, cursing the dreaded thing and the time it’s chosen to wake him. He reaches out onto the sill, shutting it off before he turns in his bed and throws the blankets over him once more.

He knows he’s acting like a petulant child—he can hear his brother’s voice in his head now—but the headache that greeted him as he awoke made him want to curl into a ball and brush off all off his duties.

The mayor would have his head for that.

With another groan as he comes to terms with the validity of that, he throws the blankets off of himself and steps onto the cold hardwood. At least it’s his last night on the ship. Starting tomorrow until the return of warm weather with the spring, he’d be waking up in a much too cozy bed at Granny’s Inn.

If only he could get rid of this stupid headache first, one that always seemed to accompany this same foolish dream.

///

When Killian walks into Granny’s diner, wearing shades despite the overcast that’s prevented the sun from coming up, he’s surprised at the lack of eyes on him. He’s grown accustomed to the usual ones, the ones that follow him as he makes his daily routine into his booth, the ones that scrutinize his role as the harbormaster, the ones that stare at his missing hand and subsequent prosthetic, never letting him forget.

The stares don’t come today, but there are whispers. Whispers of a new woman in town, whispers of the mayor’s son’s real mother making an appearance in their quant little town. He tries to think back at the last time they’ve had a visitor but he draws a blank, memories all a blur.

“You look like shit,” is all she says as she drops off a cup of coffee and a bear claw before bouncing off to another table to help them.

He feels like it. No, scratch that, he feels like how that would feel after going through the wringer against itself. He can’t will away this headache, no matter how hard he tries, and the copious painkillers he took before stepping off his ship have done nothing at all.

He’d blame it on the rum he keeps aboard the ship, but he didn’t drink more than his usual last night. He hasn’t drank more than his usual since…well, since a really long time.

He can’t do this anymore, not with his head feeling like he’s about to explode. At least if he gets back to work he can attempt to ignore this and make something productive of his time. So he grabs his cup and heads to the counter, squeezing in between Marco and Walter to grab Granny’s attention.

“Mind if I get this to go, love?” he asks, before he’s on his way back to the docks, coffee and bear claw in hand.

///

Killian gets lost in his work, tending to the ships that need to be tended, making sure all permits are in order and dockings are secure for whatever storm might come their way.

It’s nightfall by the time he’s done, much too late to stop by the town hall and make sure all of his paperwork gets sorted. So he stops by his ship last, grabs the bag he packed for himself, and locks it up before he goes.

His headache has been a dull nuisance as he worked all day, only spiking the one time he dropped something in his quarters and had to search beneath the bed.

The minute he steps back onto Main Street, the headache grows. He stops at the curb just as a yellow bug zooms by him, coming to a stop in front of Granny’s. His only thought is that this must be the woman the town’s been buzzing about all day, the mother who seemed to appear out of thin air.

He follows the head of blonde curls as she steps inside of the bed and breakfast. He opens the door just to hear her ask Granny for a room, and it’s as if time stops. He stills at the doorway, bag falling out of his hand. When she turns, he feels the pain of the headache that tormented him all day now disappearing.

“Princess,” he breathes, word escaping his mouth quicker than his brain can stop him.

She raises a brow as looks him over. “Uh, no. Swan, actually. Emma Swan.”

Granny breaks the spell he’s under, dangling a key in front of her as she says, “Jones, I think it’s time for you to head on up to bed.”

Killian only nods, eyes glued on this Swan before him as he reaches around her for the proffered keys. “I guess I’ll see you around, then, Swan,” he says.

“I’m sure you will, Jones,” she says, gaze lingering on him as he disappears up the stairs.

He convinces himself at the top of the landing not to turn back around and tell this stranger about his dream, all but barricades himself in his room to stop himself.

It’s just a dream, he reminds himself. One he’ll never have again.

Or so he thinks.


End file.
